


Sleeping Beauty-Beast

by TypingMonkey (purty64)



Category: The Penumbra Podcast, The Second Citadel (The Penumbra Podcast)
Genre: I suppose I could mark it major character death but it's fine he gets better, Multi, Sleeping Beauty AU, it's not even clear if he's dead, of a sort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:20:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24314164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purty64/pseuds/TypingMonkey
Summary: The difference between a dead plant and a dormant plant, from the surface, is difficult to discern. When something goes dormant, it draws water and nutrients away from exposed limbs, such as stalks and leaves, and when one dies, well. There's no water or nutrients to leave behind.In either case, their flowers wilt just the same.
Relationships: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla (Penumbra Podcast), Sir Damien/Rilla (Penumbra Podcast)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	Sleeping Beauty-Beast

**Author's Note:**

> hewwo! I wrote this in a haze after yelling about it to the Snerver, and most of it was inspired by this post and sticker (redbubble link) which I've got on my laptop. I. yea. I got nothin. hope you enjoy!

The difference between a dead plant and a dormant plant, from the surface, is difficult to discern. When something goes dormant, it draws water and nutrients away from exposed limbs, such as stalks and leaves, and when one _dies_ , well. There's no water or nutrients to leave behind.

In either case, their flowers wilt just the same.

* * *

Lord Arum, he who rules the swamp of Titan's Bloom, is dying, no matter how much those ~~_that_~~ which love him would wish he wasn't. It is not the slow, peaceful death of one who has lived their prime, has fulfilled their duty and purpose and is now happy to move on. Lord Arum is dying, the fast, horrible, _unnatural_ death of one deposed.

And the Keep _(" The Keep?" "Yes, the Keep")_ would much rather he didn't.

* * *

  
  
"Research log, number... _Saints_ , I think I've lost track. I came across this, meadow in the jungle today, which by itself isn't worth mentioning, but-  
It only has honeysuckle and-" she laughs "- _amaryllis_ in it. Which is weird, because usually those don't grow together! Or, not exclusively anyway. The honeysuckle might push out other flowers and flora, but, it'd take out _everything_. It wouldn't _leave_ something, like amaryllis. This requires further research."

_(Oh, Saint Damien, let me find this beast before it kills anyone else, lend me your calm so I might- agh, these thickets! So tangled and deep that they render the landscape almost impossible to traverse, why can't- oh. It- it's beautiful.)_

"Research log, supplemental. I can find no reason why _these_ flowers would be growing here together. Saints, the vines are so thick you can't see the dirt beneath, I'm not sure how _anything_ is growing here."

_(There's... oh. ~~he laughs~~ It's amaryllis. I should bring Rilla here, it's beautiful-_

_**Beast!** Ah-ha, you thought you could- oh. It sleeps. I- well then. I suppose- should I wake it? But then it might kill me as it wakes. But if I do not wake it, I would kill it in its sleep, and there's not honor in that at all. Oh Saint Damien, what should I do? Wake it and risk my life, or slaughter it and risk my conscience?)_

(What, of course, Damien doesn't know, is that he will be doing _**neither** )_

"Rilla?"

"Damien?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Trying to figure out the source of these flowers. Isn't it fascinating?"

"Stay back!"

"What? Why?"

"Don't come any closer! The beast-"

"The what-? Oh!" She stops, stumbling on the vine twisted floor, nearly falling across the sleeping ~~beauty~~ creature between them. "Holy shit!"

"Rilla!" he _hisses_. "Do you wish to wake it early?"

"Do you think this could be what's causing the growth of these flowers?" she says back in a stage whisper.

"I don't know, Rilla!"

And they hiss, back and fourth across the dreaming body of the Lord between them, until-

-Sir Damien loses his patience-

-Sir Damien draws his blade-

-Sir Damien stabs the beast-

-until they realize it _doesn't bleed._

* * *

They say that time flies when you're having fun. What _really_ happens is that most people measure time as one thing happening after another. If lots of things are happening, time goes faster. If it's just the one, it almost doesn't pass at all.

When you're hopping from one puzzle to the next, things like 'seconds' or 'minutes' stop having meaning. The only time that matters is Unsolved, and Solved.

With the discovery of the sleeping ~~beauty~~ _beast_ , Rilla has very many puzzles indeed.

* * *

Damien still has to finish his hunt, but before he goes he's able to coax his own Amaryllis into bed, to lie beside her and sleep, at least for one night.

They dream.

They dream together of intertwining flowers, and vines and scales and _teeth_ and knives and _"Who are you?"_ and _"What are you doing here?"_ and scales and lilies-

When they awake, they don't remember much of it at all, passing it off as a product of the hunt.

(It isn't.)

* * *

Lord Arum is (was?) an abrasive personality. He would (does?) snap at visitors, make cutting remarks about intelligence and tear apart whatever vanity his conversation partner held.

But he was (is?) loved.

Deep in the jungle, there is a thicket, so tangled and deep it renders the landscape untraversable. This is on purpose. It likes it that way, with walls to keep unmentionables out and a roof to deter the rain. Nowadays, if you weren't paying attention, you may not even notice the walls, or the roof.

You might mistake it for a glade.

* * *

"Research log- oh, it's no use!" A clatter, ear scratching noise (of the recorder being thrown, I'd think). Under her breath, "Damn, shit, I didn't- ugh." She clears her throat. "I can't figure out what's _wrong_ i- him. He seems fine. He _heals,_ even, which he _shouldn't_ because he's not _breathing_ , which should mean he's dead, but. The wound Damien made is gone."

_(Saints, where is that'd cursed beast? I can't seem to find it anywhere. Ack, if only I had Sir Talfryn with me, he could track a fish through water- ah! Foot prints! And matching that of the description of the beast!_

_Ah-ha, there it lurks, in the shadows. Saint Damien, lend me your strength, that this arrow might strike true-)_

And Damien's hunt ended.

 _Rilla's,_ however...

* * *

She'd read it in a fairytale, years and years ago, before she'd stopped reading stories about gremlins and monsters and started reading stories about tiny creatures that live in your blood and the flammability of mushrooms.

There was a princess, she remembered, who'd been put to sleep (a death like sleep, her mind supplied, and she shivered) in a snarl of roses, but she couldn't remember why. She _knew_ the princess was awoken by true loves kiss, because at the time she'd thought it was the stupidest thing _ever_ , even at age six and a half with her parents still reading to her ~~even at age nine with the book in her own hands even at age eleven with the book under the covers and a candle too close to the pages even at age sixteen when she wasn't supposed to be _reading_ that sort of stuff anymore even now, when she could barely remember the words anymore~~.

"True loves kiss, huh?" she said, holding a vial full of water and a few blossoms from around the glade. She scoffed. "Well, good luck with that."

* * *

Damien returns. Not to the citadel, as he knows he should, but to the glade, to see-

Well. It doesn't matter that much, does it? He meets back up with Rilla, who's had no success whatsoever, and he tells her about his _adventure_ , which takes all the way until the sun goes down (and then some), at which time he goes to bed and convinces her to come with him, though she got nearly no work done that day. They lay down, once again, and sleep.

Once again, they dream.

* * *

"Who _are_ you?" ~~it~~ snarls.

"Who are you?" she says.

"I asked you first," and oh, ~~he~~ _sulks_. She laughs.

They're surrounded by flowers, in a field in a house. And the flowers are amaryllis and honeysuckle and lilies, all at once and not at all, simultaneous without overlapping, in the way only dreams can do.

He sits, weaving them into a crown of gold.

 ~~It~~ spits, again. "How did you even get here? No one's supposed to- be _able_ to."

She shrugs. "I dunno. I was just, here, ya know?"

 _"No_ , I do not _know,_ little flower. If I knew I wouldn't _ask."_

She laughs again. It wasn't even that funny, she thinks, but it felt like the right thing to do.

 ~~It~~ bristles. He passes ~~it?~~ the crown, now a twisting circlet studded with gemstones that offset ~~its??~~ scales.

 ~~He?~~ balks. "Wha- _what?"_

"You're _supposed_ to say 'thank you'." She says, crossing her arms and rocking on her heels.

 ~~ _He_~~ stares at her.

The dream fades, and as it's fading she thinks she hears ~~him~~ ask _why._

* * *

She taps a pen on her lip. "Did you-" she starts. "What did you dream of last night?"

He looks up. "Dream?"

"Yeah. I have a theory, but I need to know what your dreams have been like, recently."

"Well." He sits up straight. "I dreamt that I sat in, a field, I think, and I was- weaving a crown? And I gave it to-" he flushes, cringing.

"To..?"

He gestured toward the sleeping ~~beauty~~ _**beast**_ before them.

"Right. Thank you!" she kisses him on the cheek, and he melts.

Neither of them notice the dreamer twitch.

* * *

The next night, they're dueling, using his knives, though they're shaped like lilies.

"I will not hurt-you-wake-you, beast."

 ~~He~~ laughs. "You say that little-poet, and yet" ~~he~~ blocks another blow, aimed for the head.

He _gasps_ "I will not hurt you," _not again_ he doesn't say, but they all hear it.

She watches from one side of the floor, from the top of the tower, from the bed. The windows show the treetops extending, for miles and miles, little wisps of cloud drifting past, and through the solid oak ceiling they can see the purple-green sky. And she watches.

She watches as they swing their blades, and she watches and they leap apart, and she watches as he is called _"delicate little, honeysuckle"_ , and _she **watches**_ as ~~his~~ arm suddenly splits open, and blood drips down his knife, though they are still a distance apart.

She unwraps the scarf from around her hair, and ties it around ~~his~~ wound, the blue-purple-gold silk offsetting the green-orange-yellow of ~~his~~ scales.

Their eyes meet. "Why... why are you doing this for me?" (It's clear he's not talking about the scarf.)

She smiles. "Because I want to."

"But _why?"_

"I want to know who you are."

"You don't."

"I will. I will." She steps back, having finished tying the cloth.

"Why do you _bother?"_

"I want to."

 ~~He~~ snarls, turns away, and climbs across the walls and ceiling to hang above them, looking down on them with his mouth twisted up. _"You shouldn't."_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm hoping to finish this at some point in the future, but with my track record..... well. don't hold your breath. I might add it as another chapter or edit this one, so keep an eye out for that :P  
> I did want to get this bit up cause I fuckin _love_ it, and I'm not gonna let the fact that I can't write stop me from posting


End file.
